For Love of Grace [Werewolves Wanting Love 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Adams

  Mark’s brain whirred as he tried to think of a better solution, but finally he slept.

  * * * *

  By the time Jarin had put everything away and taken a shower, he was ready for bed. It was too dark to fly over the canyon looking for the reason behind the flood, but he really needed to see if his manager had asked him to make a check. Well, actually he was almost certain his manager would have been sending him e-mails. At least he could answer in all honesty that he’d been out at the canyon working.

  Exactly as he’d predicted there was a slew of e-mails asking him for information. Fortunately he could answer some of them from what he’d seen and was able to say held be out again early tomorrow checking. Apparently it hadn’t been caused by heavy rain to the east at all. It’d been a small dam wall that had weakened and the dam managers had decided to release water so they could work on repairs.

  “It would have been nice to know in advance,” muttered Jarin. But that was the whole point. People seldom understood how what they did might affect people hundreds of miles away. Oh well, it meant he had a job so it was all good.

  Reluctantly he set his alarm. He had a long way to fly tomorrow to answer all his boss’s questions so he needed to make an early start. Although not before dawn this time, which was a relief. He didn’t mind seeing dawn now and again, but not three times in three days.

  The next morning, he soared high above the desert, letting the air currents help him along. That was another good thing about early mornings. The most common air current at this altitude was often the way he needed to fly. On the return trip he’d drop down lower to avoid it.

  Jarin flew all the way to the dam and noted it was still half-full. That’d make a hell of a mess if the wall wasn’t repaired properly. There were a lot of men and machines there working though, so he expected it was all under control. He flew lower now, and followed the trail of the water where it had spilled into the Colorado River and then saw where it had raced down several different canyons, dividing into smaller canyons and gullies. That was how it had ended up in Red Canyon as well as the main river entry at Tyson’s Corner which had caused the problem.

  He flew well past Red Canyon to check the water wasn’t running wild anywhere else, and then flew straight up the Grand Canyon back home. Being a vulture was a wonderful gift. He loved flying and soaring on the air currents. The ability to sweep and swoop on his prey, or just to frighten some small creature into hiding, was indescribable. He let the air lift his wings, raising and lowering him on the updrafts and down currents as he made his way back home.

  Home. It was a very ordinary brown clapboard house. His parents had left five years earlier, insisting they wanted a cooler climate, one with seasons. That plan had lasted for oh, about five minutes into winter. They’d called him to tell him how glorious snow was. How clean and pristine and pretty everything looked covered with snow. Then his dad had slipped on the icy stairs of their apartment block, cracked a bone in his leg, and caught pneumonia from being bedridden after the injury. Not long after his dad was well again, Jarin’s parents had packed up their apartment and moved to the Texas Gulf. Personally, he expected them back whenever the first tornado or hurricane appeared. Or maybe they’d go to Florida or California. Although everyone knew California got earthquakes, so maybe not there.

  Jarin landed on the back deck and looked around. This was the way he and his parents had always flown home, as it wasn’t visible from the narrow road out front, or from any neighboring property. Nevertheless he did what he’d done ever since puberty. Stepped straight into the boxers he’d left lying on a chair on the deck, before opening the door and going inside. It was strange. He no longer really cared if anyone saw him naked. Hell, he’d been walking around naked in the canyon yesterday. But this was what he’d always done before flying from home so it was an ingrained habit he saw no reason to change.

  Maybe once Grace was around he wouldn’t want to have his dick covered. Maybe with her there he’d want it buried inside her at every opportunity she gave him. Or maybe she wouldn’t agree to be with them at all. Fuck. Waiting was so hard. All he wanted was her, and he now knew sharing her with Mark was a good idea. Mark was able to prevent Jarin from being too dominating in the relationship. Although he’d sure as hell like to dominate in her in the dungeon. But he wanted her with or without the ropes and chains.

  Tomorrow. Today was for work and chores. Tomorrow he’d think of something romantic for them to do. Something that didn’t involve the canyon and hiking but did involve a nice soft bed.

  * * * *

  Grace lay in her own little bed, snuggled under her soft blankets and surrounded by nothing but the deep restorative silence of being alone in the desert. Here there was no traffic at night, no wild parties in the area, no sirens or alarms, nothing. Just peace.

  And for the first time ever she decided she really wouldn’t have minded someone there with her. Maybe she was just being contrary, but the thought of a big, hard body in the bed with her made her smile. Not this actual bed, of course. Her bed was only large enough for one person. But Mark and Jarin beside her as she slept was a picture that was surprisingly appealing. Even if they snored.

  Grace pulled the blanket up over her ear and tucked her knees up closer to her chest. Not once at the mating party had she felt any urge to touch any one of the dozens of truly delicious-looking men there. The thought of sleeping with one of them had never crossed her mind.

  And her mind had been quite open. She’d gone there partly to please her grandfather, but also because she was ready to have a man—or several men—in her life. Many of the wolves at the mating party were handsome. Many of them were witty, charming, and intelligent. She had no doubt at all that every one of them would have made her a devoted and caring partner. But none of them flicked the switch that fired up her hormones the way Jarin had always done. She’d also always been attracted to Mark, who was definitely just as delicious as Jarin, but Jarin was always so much in her face that he usually came into her mind first. Now she knew that it was Mark who’d convinced Jarin to moderate his actions so they might both win her as their mate, together.

  Her little test, the hike in the Grand Canyon, had turned out to be a not-so-little test but they’d both passed it with flying colors. They’d given her the space she needed to be herself. They’d let her refresh herself the way she liked to, and yet they’d still shown their care and concern for her, and rescued her from the canyon personally, instead of calling for a rescue crew.

  She had no doubt Jarin could have flown into town for help and a rescue helicopter would have been sent out, winching her and Mark to safety with a lot less stress than her climbing the canyon. But they’d also understood she’d have absolutely loathed that.

  She’d have hated being choppered to some major city, stuck in a hospital and placed under observation for twenty-four hours. Nurses constantly checking her temperature and blood pressure, machines beeping all around her, sirens blaring, people everywhere. By the time the twenty-four hours were up she’d likely be insane. Especially seeing she wasn’t hurt. Instead they’d done it tough and rescued her with no commotion or fanfare. She loved that they’d done that. That they’d exhausted themselves in their care for her so that she could remain true to herself.

  If they asked her out tomorrow she’d agree. Maybe she could work out some compromise with them that would suit them all.

  * * * *

  Being a vulture and able to over fly the land saved Jarin a lot of work, especially when there were no problems for him to fix. He could fly out, say the missing tourists weren’t anywhere near him, and phone in a report in a fraction of the time it’d take him to drive to half a dozen different lookout points and scan the area with binoculars. But today, not so much. He needed to take photographs of the flooding and send them to his boss, which meant traveling by truck until he figured out a way to carry his cell phone in his beak.

  He and Mark had asked Grace to spend some time wit
h them tonight, and she’d agreed to cook a meal for them and her grandfather, and then they’d decide what to after that. Jarin’s dick grew several inches. He knew what he wanted to do with her but maybe they should watch a movie or something first. Vulture Valley wasn’t exactly the heart of the entertainment district, but he had a satellite dish on the roof of his home and could access pretty much every cable channel in the surrounding six states, so there was always something to see on the television. He also had a huge library of DVDs for the rare occasion when the TV let him down.

  Or maybe she’d want to do something else. He wondered if she liked playing games. Strip poker came to mind. It didn’t matter whether he won or lost at cards, with strip poker they’d all win in the end.

  He was showered, shaved, and walking into the sunroom at Mr. Patterson’s house a few minutes before he was due to arrive. The most amazing food smell permeated the house and he licked his lips, wondering what Grace had cooked for them all. The old man was sitting on a chair, instead of lying on the daybed, which was an excellent sign. Obviously he was feeling quite well today.

  Mark was there already talking to Glen, so Jarin said, “I’ll go ask Grace if she needs any help.”

  “Don’t bother. She sent me out here already when I offered,” said Mark.

  Jarin went into the kitchen anyway. Maybe Grace had just wanted someone to talk to her grandpa while she cooked. But he could see the table was set and she was pulling bread out of the oven.

  “Can I help you, Grace?” he asked.

  “The meal is ready now. You could ask Mark and Grandpa to come in here for me, please.”

  She looked so lithe and beautiful with a bath towel tied under her armpits to protect her clothing from spatters as she juggled the hot pan from the oven. He longed to take it from her and help her, but he’d been told no, so he dutifully went back to the sunroom and passed on her message.

  “Mesquite-cooked steak with the barbecue sauce made from saguaro cactus syrup. A genuine, traditional Arizona meal,” said Glen, carving a chunk of his steak and chomping on it happily.

  “The squash is traditional, too, but I’m not sure about the green beans,” said Mark, licking his lips.

  “It all tastes great,” said Jarin taking a piece of garlic bread from the plate Grace passed him, and handing it on to Mark.

  “The garlic bread is made from mesquite pod flour, but I don’t think garlic is traditional in this area. We just like it,” said Grace.

  The garlic bread was melt-in-his-mouth delicious and he savored every mouthful of the meal. Grace was one hell of a good cook. However, he’d never expect her to do all the cooking if they became a triad. Since they were all working they’d all share the household tasks. Although maybe she’d let him do the laundry instead of cooking. He was more a put-it-in-the-microwave type of cook, than a cook-from-basics man.

  “Do you remember Dorothea who we went back to the shape-shifter clinic with? And Heather from Hanson Mall I’ve told you about?” asked Grace.

  Jarin nodded.

  “I talked to Dorothea a bit about how vultures always learn their genealogies. How oral history is a big part of our lives,” said Glen.

  Jarin nodded. Vultures had often had to fly away from trouble leaving all their possessions behind. All their important family history was memorized from a very young age. Even here in Vulture Valley, he’d been taught to recite his family tree back six generations by the time he stated school.

  “Dorothea was really interested to hear that. The werewolves—all the werewolves, not just one pack—have a family history project where they are collecting data about the families to see whether the lack of shape-shifter females has always been the case, or whether it’s a new phenomenon,” said Grace.

  “If it’s all the werewolf packs it’ll be a project organized by the Supreme Alpha. He’s the only one with the power to do that,” said Mark.

  “Yes, it is, and they want to come here and interview me and some of the other vultures. They want to write down our history and see if we follow the same pattern as the wolves. They were fascinated when they found out that although this is a vulture community there’ve been wolves here for almost as long as the vultures,” added Glen.

  “What did Vassily say?” asked Jarin. He thought likely the Alpha would agree but the senior vulture was sometimes quite unpredictable.

  “He approved the visit. He said we’ve cooperated with the wolves for hundreds of years and both groups have survived, so maybe this project will be of benefit to us as well in the future.”

  “But they are not going to stay in my apartment,” said Grace firmly.

  “You could move back into your room. It’s only for a few days.”

  “No.”

  “She hasn’t got enough beds for these people anyway. If Jarin doesn’t mind, I could move in with him and they could have my house while they’re here.”

  The old man laughed. “And how many of them will break their noses and knock themselves unconscious trying to walk in your front door?”

  “It’s a traditional werewolf house,” complained Mark.

  Jarin held back his laughter. “It’d be fine for you to visit with me. I agree it’s better for these people to have their own house. How are they getting here? Will they need us to lend them vehicles? How many of them will there be?”

  “Georgia Edwards is in charge and she’s mated to Ethan Simon and Nolan James who help her. I expect they’ll fly to the nearest airport and hire cars from there. I haven’t sent exact directions to them yet. Grandpa only got approval from Vassily this afternoon.”

  Jarin looked at her and smiled. “You’re excited about seeing your friends again, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve never met these people at all. But I guess, yes, I’m excited about the connections I’ve made in the werewolf community.”

  Jarin had to force himself not to grab her and kiss her. That proved it. Through her grandfather, she was bound to the vulture community, yet of her own volition she’d made friends with the werewolf community. She was the perfect mate for him and Mark, a vulture and a werewolf. Surely even she could see the links between them all?

  * * * *

  When the old man headed into his room, Mark gently pulled Grace to her feet. “Please, Grace, let us make love to you. Jarin and I’ve only had you once and we need to show you again and again how much we love you. Let us worship your body in the way it really ought to be.”

  “In a bed?” Grace giggled.

  Jarin nodded to Mark and then Mark turned her to face Jarin. He was pretty sure what was coming next and hoped Jarin handled it right. Jarin had been really good about not being bossy, but if he was about to say what Mark thought he wanted to say, it had the potential to go very wrong.

  “You’ve mentioned a few times that you have vibrators. Do you have other toys as well? And I don’t mean Barbie dolls.”

  Mark watched from the side as a blush spread over Grace’s face.

  “A few.”

  “Have you ever wondered what it might feel like if two men played with your body using some toys? Along with a hint of dominance?” asked Jarin.

  Mark held his breath. The question had to be asked, but perhaps this was too soon. Still Jarin had handled it well. He hadn’t come roaring in like a steam train as he might have done in the past.

  “I won’t be gagged, and I won’t have my airways restricted in any way, shape, or form. But as for the rest, maybe.”

  Holy shit! She’d agreed. Just like that.

  “Will you come to my house tonight? I can assure you there’s a very nice bed and I have some toys. Barbie dolls, Tonka trucks, and more adult ones as well.” Mark held his breath, waiting for her to agree. He thought likely she would, but she had to say the words herself. She had to agree with no pressure from Jarin or him.

  “Why do you have Barbie dolls? You don’t have a sister.” Grace turned to face him.

  Mark laughed. That was so not the answer he expected.
His dick was almost bursting with need for her and she asked the damndest questions. “They were my mother’s. She had a couple of erotic romance novels as well. I have them, too, if you want to read them.”

  “Maybe you should read them.”

  “I already have. I wouldn’t sit in the diner and read them, but I’m not ashamed to say I found them most enjoyable.” Mark was pretty sure he was blushing now. Luckily his face was quite tanned. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to tell.

  “I think it’s time to go to Mark’s house,” said Jarin.

  He’d walked over so they all walked there, leaving Jarin’s truck out front of the Patterson house. He opened the door and led the way in. Neither Grace nor Jarin would crash into the security wall, but he would have to explain it to these other people the first time they arrived.

  Both Grace and Jarin waited in the living room while he went into his bedroom and turned on a small lamp on the nightstand.

  He’d let Jarin set the pace with the BDSM. He liked dominating people, too, but Jarin was one hundred percent Dom. That’s why letting Grace make her own decisions had been so much harder for the vulture than for him. Which wasn’t to say he wouldn’t like to see Grace naked, bound, and writhing under the strokes of his whip. He would, but he was prepared to wait until he was sure she was ready for that.

  He stood in the entry to the living room, caught Jarin’s gaze, and lifted an eyebrow.